


Reparations

by Decepticonsensual



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fix-It, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 21:24:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7861642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decepticonsensual/pseuds/Decepticonsensual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fix-it fic following the events of MTMTE #54, with significant spoilers for that issue.  Basically, this one is a straight-up dose of fluff for the robot soul.  Rung mends what's broken; Skids discovers that some repairs actually don't need to be made at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reparations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Scraplette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scraplette/gifts).



> This was a birthday gift for Scraplette - happy birthday!

With a crackle of electricity and a hungry gulp of air through his vents, Skids rushed back to life.

He lay, panting, trying to make sense of where he was.  He had been… crawling… yes, the last thing he could remember was his vision greying out as he dragged his spent frame across the floor.  He needed to reach… something.  Someone?  All the remained was the memory of the urgency, coursing through him like a million volts, but whatever had spurred it was lost somewhere in the static of his mind, just out of reach.

As he came back to himself, he registered a faint pressure on his forehead, which eventually resolved itself into a hand, warm – familiar.

“Rung?”  Skids’s voice sounded like his vocaliser had been buried in rust for a century.

“I’m here.”  The thumb moved, rubbing gently over Skids’s helm.

Faint threads of memory started tugging themselves together.  “How… how am _I_ still here?”

“Nightbeat and I worked it out.”  There was a trace of a smile in that soft voice, but no further explanation was forthcoming.  Rung’s fingers continued to stroke Skids’s forehead, and he concentrated on the sensation as if it were the only real thing.

He could feel the cabling of his throat close, choking him.  “Rung, I remembered –”

“Ratchet told me.  You’re very brave, Skids.”

“No!”  Exhausted and numb as he was, Skids still managed to catapult himself to sitting, though his attempt to scramble off the berth left him reeling and he sat back down, hard.  “I’m not brave, I – Brainstorm, I have to – oh, Rung, you don’t understand, I’m – _scum,_ I’ve always been scum –”

Rung’s face swam into focus, those lovely blue optics huge.  “Brainstorm knows, Skids, it’s all right.”  He wrapped one arm around Skids’s shoulders, coaxing him to lean back against the pillow; the other hand settled above Skids’s spark.

“Does he hate me?”  Skids winced at how small his voice sounded.

Rung perched lightly on the berth next to him, and leaned his helm against Skids’s.  “My dear, Brainstorm’s known for ages.  Ever since we chased him back in time, in fact.”

“He… what?”  Memories of hanging around Nautica’s quarters, teaching her how to dangle upside-down, Skids teasing Brainstorm; of Brainstorm’s voice, alongside Nautica’s and Velocity’s and Nightbeat’s and Rung’s, reciting the ancient words of the _amica endura_ pledge.  How could Brainstorm stand to share that bond – how could he stand to be on the same planet with a _creature_ like Skids?

Rung held him tighter as Skids keened softly.  “He never blamed you, you know.  Not for a moment.  Do you think Brainstorm, of all people, would hold it against you that you were taken in by Tarn?  You remember the second _Lost Light_?”  Skids shuddered, and Rung nuzzled softly against him.  “You’re not scum.  Skids, you are – without a doubt, you are one of the best mechs I have ever known.  The very best.”

Skids shook his head, but the action was more rote than insistent, now.

“You are.  I promise.”  Rung sighed.  “And you would not be yourself, if you didn’t feel Quark’s fate so keenly.  But what happened in that place was done _to_ you.  It was not your fault.”

Something seemed to burst inside Skids, and he was suddenly trembling, hard enough for his armour to clatter.  Rung didn’t say another word, only held him.

A long time later, when Skids’s shaking finally subsided, Rung murmured, “I have wanted to tell you that for so long, you know. I only regret that I wasn’t there for you when you did remember –”

“Shhh, no, you couldn’t have known it was coming.  You’ve been there for me so many times, in so many ways; it was just lousy luck, is all.”

Rung looked up at Skids, a smile on his face that looked like it hurt.  “I thought I’d lost you.”

Skids put his arms around him, holding tight as he turned the idea over and over in his shocked mind.  Rung knew what he was.  Rung knew the worst thing Skids had ever done.  And he still wanted him around.

They sat like that for a long moment, Skids listening to the quiet whirr of their sparks.


End file.
